Grey Dawn In the Deep South

Grey Dawn In the Deep South

In the grey dawn
when the heavy valley air takes the city
in foggy arms.

Almost chilly streets
that will lose this soon
in the sunshine noon
and afternoon hot as blazes.

In the grey dawn
when the frogs croak
and two cats watch for birds.

Rumbling sound
of the car next door
across the bushes that keep us apart.

In the grey dawn
I hear a distant train
that comes closer to my street
on a crawl from Macon.

Whistle whining
from a long way from here.

A Monday that will soon
burn with daylight
heat and brightness so intense
it seems loud and pounding.

-Will Dockery (7-19-21)

My Painter Muse

This morning in my yard
it's cool for July
but still a dark blue green.
Several of the cats
golden, black and Siamese Cream Puff
are in the yard and on the porch, which
makes me happy and welcome.
First sound of a train far away
then a number of frogs over by the creek.
But it is the blooms
from my old friend the crepe myrtle tree
glowing pink under street light
that sparks my painter Muse.

-Will Dockery (7-18-21)

Rose Briar and Kudzu 1982

Rose Briar and Kudzu 1982

It could be easy to forget what our lives were like then
when we were in new love and top shelf
and morning came bright with blues and pinks.

There was no time to try and save time
like in some bottle because we had years to spare
turning some tricks because we knew so much.

Seemed like every other month we moved on
we didn’t need to look at the time flashing by
we could walk a mile or two and just talk.

We were so fast but I could still
spot the signals in the sidewalk or the blue haze
to make you smile was the best minute of the day.

-Will Dockery (7-18-21)

A Golden Afternoon in 1980

A Golden Afternoon in 1980

I would walk it
with you
I will walk it
with you.

I remember crossing
Monroe Drive
with you
down to Ansley Park.

You giggled as we passed
the Fruit Jungle
at their open love
and welcoming freedom.

Welcoming
the cold wind from the east
our bond
as outsiders.

A long time ago
the new age dawned
grey morning
into cold golden afternoon.

The winter storms
passed us by
here in the Deep South.

Leaving
a beautiful golden
and still wintery
afternoon.

I would walk it
with you
I will walk it
with you.

-Will Dockery (12-9-17)

Clermont Hotel 1982

Clermont Hotel 1982

The Clermont
is not a steamboat
not here
not in this memory.

I close my eyes
as I think of that name
watch her as
she passes by.

How Robert Fulton
led to this
a word or thought
can prompt another
up the road from here.

Near the Clermont
the ghost of Capone
who ran the show
from his room
looking down from his room
to the diner.

The light at 4 am
and
a tingle in my backbone.

Jump cut
looking through plate glass
at Majestic Diner
me, Hugo and Jim were having a...
cup of coffee.

Later on as the night
thinned down
I found her.

We spoke
another detached situation
I made the moves
I had learned my
lessons well.

I knew damn well
this was nasty
flowers everywhere
rubbish on the stairs.

Not the kind of place
I would need
to be seen.
Another summer of love
laced with obscene.

The smell?
Nag Champa.
The aftertaste?
something bitter.

The smell
smack down memory
that still
surrounds you.

And here I sit
thirty five years
down the road
in a moment
that keeps flashing
back to me.

That one instant
it doesn't happen
to me every day
coming on to me
through a window.

Funny side bars
save those for another
poem
another time
"to excess" seemed clever
for a moment.

She shot water rats just like that
song went
with her beady eyed pimp
her money was
well spent.

She moved on
I was down the hall
and gone
She moved on
just kept on
getting stoned
She is gone... now.

Because I could not wait
by the window
for the phantom
the phantom stood
outside
and waved at me.

I don't remember
her very good
not sure if
I even should.

Her head was
very good
but her black drugs
still scare me.

She moved on
took a lot
of time with her.
She moved on
I have three images
I keep here
She is gone... now.

In the fog
just another girl
on Ponce DeLeon Avenue
in 1982
she waves at me in my
snapshot memory
it must be true.

She came walking
past me
a couple of times
that week
I was checking for runes
on the sidewalk
she smiled
must have thought
I was a geek.
I was going to the corner
as she passed by
she was making money
just like
so many others often try
sometimes she sold flowers
sometimes just
straight up tricks.

She knew her trade
she had it made
just another character
waving
for one second
as my coffee
went cold.

I could say
she was an old friend
from an earlier day
she waved and passed on
across time
moving
in a darkened sway.

And I do not
know her name
it may have been Irene
it went fast
kind of sleazy and insane.

She moved on
and left
a few images behind
She moved on
a random word
brought her back
to my mind
She is gone... now.

We slowly drove
she sat in the back
silvery mist sparks
in pitch black
when I have the courage
to look back.

Down the road
near Fernbank Park
she crossed
and crossed herself.

She said
she had promised herself
not to be swayed again
by the
kindness of strangers.

But things move fast
and lucrative
with friendly strangers
who pass and smile
at her at
the bus stop.

She moved on
I did the same
even sooner.

The Clermont Hotel
is empty now
with much bigger legends
than these.

She moved on
the sounds remain
she's in my brain
but
She is gone... now.

All I have are these
images
that slowly fade.

-Will Dockery (12-4-17)

Shambles

Shambles

Yes, the "Richard Pryor" looking guy was somewhat interesting,
except that he was so drunk he was drooling.
He either thought I looked like Mark Twain or Gene Wilder,
sitting on the bench on Broadway at Midnight, typing.

He seemed to think we were from the same area,
somewhere around Kentucky.
Maybe Carolina,
where his family worked on crab boats,
or maybe North Oates Avenue.

All these short stories and his 1970s comedy asides,
the out of the side of his mouth political jabs and so on,
were pretty entertaining,
as I just sat there and typed,
playing the white straight man type,
like in Stir Crazy and Silver Streak,
wild Einstein afro hair flapping in the breeze.

That went okay for a few minutes
until Pryor knocked over my coffee,
seemed to be embarrassed about that,
and wandered away,
on up the sidewalk.

Then when a crack hooker chick
in real shambles came along,
offered to blow me right there for five bucks,
I decided that along with the chilly breeze on my back,
perhaps it was time to pack it up for the night.

I wanted dark, I got dark.

-Will Dockery (11-15-2016)

Pumpkin Bottom Revisited

Pumpkin Bottom Revisited

Out here
in the graveyard.
All the placidity
a sea of platitudes.

Millionaires and paupers
are equal
in the undiscovered country.

We all
end up here
in the city of the dead.

A place
for the dead.
A place
where they
spend eternity.

To fit a thousand myths
or more
of your choosing.

On the top of the hill
here
in Pumpkin Bottom.

I can see for miles
to either
east
west
or south.

Like a flash frame montage
I'm back
in 1995 again.

Another bitter Summer
the images are raw.
Still fresh
25 years later.

I remind myself
why I have
an irrational hatred
of certain
trivial things.

But enough of that for now
today
is Independence Day.

I know
unlike apparently
anyone else alive
that this is the spot.

The vantage point
to view the
sparkling fireworks
from several festivals.

I watch the sparkling
fireworks
and festivities
from a social distance

From eight miles high
here
at the graveyard
on
Pumpkin Bottom Hill.

-Will Dockery (7-27-20)

Candace Cadenhead (1956-2010)

Candace Cadenhead (1956-2010)

I'm noticing
smiling with a few tears
tonight
how little
Candace Cadenhead
changed over the years.

Same smile
same bright
sly intelligence
in her eyes
no doubt the same
laugh and humor.

How I would have liked
to sit with her
one more time
and discuss
the 50 years we both saw
in different
vantage points.

She loved The Beatles
from the start
as did I
and we saw their
live show on TV
in 1966.

I can still remember
how Candace
didn't miss a beat
she screamed
and pretended to faint.

I knew from
that moment on
Rock and Roll
was the life for me.

"Remember me William?"

"Yes, Candace
and you'll never be gone
as long as we...
remember."

I blink my eyes
through bitter tears
a smile for what
we've lost.

-Will Dockery